


Kings Return

by pandorasxbox



Series: Home [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Broken Heart, Character Death, Coronation, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, Erebor, Halls of Mandos, King Fili, King Kíli, Leaving Home, M/M, Melancholy, Memories, Old Age, Old Friends, Reminiscing, Undying Love, elderly Fíli and Kíli
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-04 13:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15842193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandorasxbox/pseuds/pandorasxbox
Summary: Well over a century of living in Ered Luin, Fíli and Kíli make their final journey to Erebor.





	Kings Return

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silva_13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silva_13/gifts).



> Yes, I took author's liberty to play with the Tolkien timeline, please don't shoot me. The FiKi fandom knows Fíli and Kíli survived BotFA ;)
> 
> Thank you Silva_13 for inspiring me to continue this story as I couldn't imagine loyal, responsible Fíli giving up his crown forever either <3  
> (Even if their return isn't for the reason I originally had in mind)
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Tolkien or Jackson's work or characters.

Fíli dipped a ladle into the kettle and scooped up just enough porridge to fill his bowl. The sweet scent of honey lingering from yesterday's baking made his belly rumble. There would be plenty of time to enjoy a honey-cake twice baked with Beorn's delicious honey, though the lembas bread Kíli made from Tauriel's secret elven recipe was even tastier. 

His heavy boots scuffed across the kitchen floor where shadows begun to grow, and took a seat at the aged wooden table marred with memories. This had been _his_ spot at the table for every meal, every celebration, every lesson, and important family meeting for as long as he could remember. 

Too many perfectly prepared meals his mother made to account for were served here; he grinned taking a spoonful of bland porridge. After decades of cooking for themselves, he and Kíli could never quite replicate their mother's recipes no matter how hard they tried. 

As he sat down his cup, a faded rune carved into the wood caught his eye. _'Kíli! Adad just refinished the table! Why would you do that? You're going to be in so much trouble!'_ Kíli had just learned how to write when he took a knife to the poor old table. Fíli snorted remembering little imp Kíli's proud smile. His nadadith held no remorse for what he'd done. 

_'I wrote your name, Fee!'_

_'Kíli, that's not how you write my name. That rune means king.'_

_'I know.' Kíli lilted. 'You will be king someday. King Fíli, Son of Dís, King Under the Mountain. I carved the rune where you sit so everyone who sits at this table knows this seat is reserved for the king!'_

_Fíli blushed, 'You're an heir as well, Kee. I don't want to be king alone. Will you rule beside me?'_

_Little Kíli bound from the kitchen table, throwing his arms around his brother; the one he looked up to and inspired to be like, and shouted with exuberant approval, 'Yes! I want to be king too! We'll be together forever, you and me!' Kíli ran through the house as fast as his little dwarfling legs could carry him shouting, 'Amad! Adad! Fíli said I can be king too!'_

The fire beneath the iron kettle crackled. In the still of the morning light shining on another carved work of Kíli's, Fíli traced the rune with his finger, and swallowed thickly. _'Forever together. I'll love you forever, and together we'll always be, Kíli.'_

"Good morning." 

Fíli's eyes flicked up from the table. Kíli was dressed in his traveling clothes less the heavy leather long coat for now. 

"Hard to believe this is our last morning here, isn't it?" Kíli said, taking in every detail of the kitchen as he stood there by the stone hearth blackened with ash and soot. 

He was apprehensive, not resentful. He was appreciative and thankful for the time he was given to live here in their family's cozy home tucked away in the relatively serene Blue Mountains. 

Smoke from doused candles, and cooking fire swirled about the waning sunlight. The dishes were washed, and neatly stored away as if waiting to be used again someday. The kitchen was quiet yet loud with laughter of days gone by ringing in their heads. 

Overcast skies dimmed the lighting throughout their home as the brothers gathered the last of their things. Their mother's silver hairbrush still laid upon her nightstand, and their father's favored dagger laid upon his as the items had for countless years. Fíli slipped the dagger into his pocket. No one but he should ever own or wield such a magnificent weapon as this knowing its history, and value to its owner's son. 

Every room seemed to weep, forlorn and abandoned, echoing emotional family voices _'Good morning, Fíli' 'Sleep tight, Kíli' 'Don't be reckless, Kíli' 'Look after your brother, Fíli' 'I'm proud of you, my warrior sons' 'Farewell'_ And the words spoken more than any other to this very minute, _'I love you'_

 

A heavy hand of stone-like flesh, scarred and etched with memories of battles came to rest upon Fíli's shoulder. Kíli's voice warm and steady like the summer breeze lifting strands of their long silver and platinum hair, pulls his brother from his thoughts, "It's time to go, Fee."

Fíli nodded, and stepped off the front porch. At age two hundred and forty-four, indeed it was time. 

The heirs of Durin had lived the simple life they chose in Ered Luin, but news of their cousin, King Thorin III Stonehelm's death was unexpectedly sending them back to Erebor.

Fíli looked toward the garden he and Kíli would have tended to this season. What a shame to leave good food to rot. The forge they worked on their land was as eerily quiet as the barn void of animals they had sold off to neighbors. The ponies they rode were all they would need on this long journey. 

  


Crossing the Blue Mountains, and passing through the Shire, they'd made this trip a handful of times in their day, but Kíli's heart ached knowing this was the last he would ever see lands graced in peacefulness, so green and full of life ever again. 

They stopped at the Green Dragon Inn to enjoy Hobbit hospitality one last time, and hear tall tales of Bilbo Baggins told by his proud descendants. Fíli winked at Kíli knowing how embellished the stories had become over years of re-telling. The naive young Hobbits gasped as the two elderly dwarfs weaved more half-truths into their tales. Why wouldn't they believe two noble dwarves of Thorin's company who fought in the front lines at the Battle of the Five Armies? 

Sitting back smoking their pipes enjoying the stories, elderly Merry and Pippin rolled their eyes at the dwarves. Frodo had told them Gimli's cousins were quite the trouble-makers in their youth, and never shied from telling a twisted tale or two. The Hobbits had to admit, they were impressed, but still believed their tales of being kidnapped by orcs, and their time spent with Treebeard were far greater. 

The restful night in the Shire, curled around each other, came to an end at daybreak, and the Durin brothers had to say farewell to their gracious Hobbit hosts. 

Bags filled with fresh garden vegetables, Fíli and Kíli set off. Through a mountain pass, fields, and prairies, the brothers found time to rest in the elven forest home of Tauriel. 

The she-elf hadn't aged a day since they'd last seen of her. Tauriel gave her old friends her blessing for a safe journey, and sent word to Legolas and Gimli in the Glittering Caves, the Kings of Erebor were returning, promising she wouldn't be far behind. 

Since Fíli's abdication, the brothers only visited Erebor a handful of times over the years for weddings, special celebrations, and funerals. Too many funerals. All of Thorin's Company had gone to the Halls of Mandos. Sadly, they were all of the company that remained. 

Kíli hung his head. They would almost be strangers in the mountain they'd won, and walked away from so long ago, but it was their duty to uphold their royal line's place on the throne of Erebor. 

Durin the VII, was merely a child as they were at age 79. Too much responsibility lay on the lad's shoulders, and Fíli and Kíli agreed to fill that role until the end of their days. 

The Durin brothers were warmly greeted in Dale by King Bard II. Kíli couldn't get over how much the man resembled his ancestor, their old friend Bard the Bowman, first king of Dale. They would have much to talk about once they'd settled in someday. 

The king of Men escorted the dwarf brothers on their final road to Erebor. All eyes fell on Fíli and Kíli as they entered the mountain alongside the king of Dale, sizing up the legendary warriors. Mumbling and grumblings of faint concern of allowing the elderly dwarrows to take up the shared mantle of king had Kíli fumbling for Fíli's hand. 

Fíli was calm, ignoring the notion of fools who were too young to remember them. The older dwarves, nearer their age, bowed in respect for the Heirs of Durin.

One of Bombur's many sons came forth, and bowed, greeting them heartily, "Haddur, at your service, your majesties!" 

"Haddur!" Fíli laughed out loud, and bowed as well. "Good to see you. You're looking well."

Red haired and just as rotund as his father, Haddur gave a nod, and locked eyes with Kíli. "Good to have the both of you home." 

_Home._

Kíli grinned. Warmth settled in his belly as Fíli lightly squeezed his hand. "Yes. It is good to be home." 

Oddly enough, he meant it. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading!


End file.
